


it takes a bit more than you (larry)

by xx1onedirection1xx



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Depression, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, M/M, Sad, Triggers, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, larry!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2561774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xx1onedirection1xx/pseuds/xx1onedirection1xx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'And you're a liar, at least all of your friends are<br/>And so am I, just typically drowned in my car.'</p><p>'amar,' harry said, glancing at lou. but his eyes stayed there; hovering like green spaceships.<br/>lou bit his tongue to cease his whimpering.<br/>'amar.' louis whispered. he might take a liking to the word.</p><p>this is a story about a boy who doesn't know much, and a boy who knows more than he should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: this story has several possible triggers (depression, suicide, alcoholism, drug use, e.d.) so if you have problems with any of these issues, or if there's any possibility, then please take caution before reading this (or avoid reading this at all).
> 
> PS: I am not endorsing any of these illnesses/issues. This is merely a story I came up with when I was tired on a Monday.

_**\- lou -** _

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” ― William Shakespeare, 'Hamlet'

the sky is lilac tonight. louis kinda wants to kill himself.

this is neither a spontaneous nor simple thought.

this is a skeleton; the bones are made up of his thoughts and his feelings and my god, is it rotting away.

my god, louis thought, is there anything left to rot?

now, to a naive eye, this may seem melodramatic. and it may as well be. louis isn't sure of that.

not really. and while we're on the subject, some other things he isn't sure of:

1) his homework from last night.

2) his older sister's middle name.

3) what 'love' is in spanish. he never took spanish.

louis doesn't really know why he likes making lists, either. sorry.

his ribs might collapse from the weight of it all.

but he's not confident if they would or not ('louis, boy, you're a piece of paper! you need to start eating more,' his doctor always said, ever since he was a little boy, just on the grasp of adolescence. just on the grasp of bitterness and slight defeat. right before It.)

and trust lou, he knows he sounds pathetic. well, not quite. apparently, he sounds like a lot of things.

so lou doesn't know a lot.

that's for sure.

but he does know some things.

he knows the sky is lilac,

and he knows that he kinda wants to kill himself.


	2. Chapter 2

 

**lou;**

 

louis was sitting on his bed, bones aching, when his mum called him for supper.

out of the corner of his eyes, lou can see his alarm clock shining bright red letters. '7:14' it reads, blurry, almost out of view.

but forward lou looked, longing looks that he was sending to the streets below. the streets filled with smiles and drunken laughs and humid air. the streets are where all the action's at. lou just looks longingly down from his bedside window.

'lou,' his too-sweet mum called again, probably trying to convince herself that he just hadn't heard her the first time.

lou swallowed the vile taste in his mouth. he couldn't ignore her any longer; his insides might implode.

'coming.' it was faint but it was existent.

'7:16' the clock read; this time lou stared at it.

the bright luminous letters burned his eyes, blurring and forming one large, bright red circle. he felt like he was tripping on acid; he felt a burning inside of him.

and the more he stared, louis realized, the more the burning spread; it spread like wildfire.

it felt like his bones were dry leaves and dry branches and they were igniting with the flame of-

"louis?" his mum whispered again.

she was outside his bedroom door.

without realization, he felt his body fall inward and his mouth pull down. with a simple pat, he felt his eyes go shut.

"coming." he called out. he tried to not sound like he was frowning (which he was; his whole being is a plethora of frowns and grimaces and cringing and darkness-

"okay." she whispered again, hopeless, meek. she sounded like a mouse.

only then did he get up. and it took everything in him.

literally. his eyes raced stars and his head felt woozy, like he was on a rollercoaster, like his body was jello-

then feet pat back down the carpeted steps. his heart sunk with very step his mum took.

lou shut his eyes and did what the school nurse said to do in these situations: tense up and stay still. statue-still.

fists tightened and blood pumping, he did so.

_come on come on come on you wimp_

_just stay still its so simple_

_god louis_

_god_

he doesn't know how long it took. it felt like a year. but it worked. only then did he feel it start to clear up.

upon opening his eyes again, he gently looked around. by now, lou had almost forgotten where he was. what he was doing.

why he was here.

(but that one may take a while to explain.)

louis glanced down, slowly. cautiously. '7:19' the clock read.

he turned, legs creaking like old doors and arms shaking like beaten pets, and crept to his shut door.

_louis just leave the room people leaves rooms_

_why can't you just leave the room_

_god_

one breath out and one breath in

and then he grabbed the ice-frozen door knob. yanked it open too.

and the next move was all one motion, blurred, staticy.

the woozy sprinting... the bounding down the stairs... his heart pumping in his ear...

god louis... he whispered to himself... catching his breath once he reached the kitchen....

his mum's back was turned and only jumped when he cleared his throat (he had something stuck; he thinks it was unspoken words that were dying in his lungs).

'sorry i have homework' he slurred and then looked everywhere for the target; the food, his supper....

'yeah sweetie...' it sounded like it was from a distance as he searched for the plate, which he then found...

'thanks and sorry...' he grabbed the plate, which was on the counter nearest to him...

'sorry' he breathed again.

 

he set the plate on his bedside table and threw himself on his bed.

his pillow can muffle his screams for the most part.

but he wasn't screaming. not really.

 

_god louis everyone eats dinner with their families_

_why can't you do that louis_

_why are you such a wimp_

_people don't do this you know_

_they don't do that god louis_

_why can't you live normally louis_

_louis_

_why can't you fucking live..??_

 

_(the food went cold when he fell asleep, only minutes later. it laid there till he woke up the next morning. he felt so bad flushing it down the toilet.)_


	3. Chapter 3

 

**lou;**

while louis was waiting for the bus, he focused on his tongue.  
it felt as though a small, furry animal was laying there, just inhabiting in him. it felt like that animal was growing, swelling to his gums, stretching his lips.  
slowly, it's starting to crawl down his throat, sliding down, itching.  
lou thinks he's too tired. or maybe just lazy.  
in the distance, a blurb of yellow clonked its way down the street. to better ready himself, louis bit down on his tongue.  
this animal needed to die. to shrink away.  
the significant pain spreads through, like a sharp line through his nerves, like a lightning bolt shocked him right in the mouth. the blood started filing through his front teeth.  
either way, it died.

only then did the bus stop. it's creaking, smudged doors slowly opened themselves, openly inviting louis a ride to hell. the sound of kids laughing and screaming and cussing and dying just burst open like a balloon, pushing against louis' eardrums as he climbed the first step.  
the first step is always the hardest,' lou shuts his eyes momentarily, 'just make it to the second step.'  
and the second step, as lou thought, was just as hard as the first one. he doesn't know why he makes things so hard on himself.  
it's way too much effort on his part.

"kid, you're gonna need to get on now." the gruff, deep voice pushed onto louis. louis felt his chest fall in (more than before).  
glancing up, the hunched, scruffy man tightened his hands on the steering wheel. as the man saw his stare, he nodded his head back. "right back there." he added.

something started punching louis' chest. something hard and repetitive, like a bomb or several. like something trying to kill him.  
he was being treated like a child.  
louis swallowed and with all his little effort in his little body, picked up his left foot and set it on the last step. with that momentum, he just let his right foot follow behind. he felt the bus silence as he looked around (once he got the courage to look up again).  
their eyes were wide and annoyed. lou doesn't blame them.  
approximately 10 seconds after just standing there, blank like paper, pale like snow,  
louis felt the mood shift in the air.

the yelling started.

"you a retard?"  
"sit the fuck down!"

his heart was a gun in the bloodiest war. it pounded with intent, with direct contact, just like those words and _god, louis sit down like a normal person._  
from inside, he felt the coolness well up in his eyes and the pressure of his nails in his hand, but it wasn't that that awoke him from his veil of fuzziness.  
it was two rows back. it was brown hair.  
and it was a hand waving him to come.

louis fixated on that hand as he floated down the aisle, hardly feeling the aisle below his trembling feet. he stared at the tiny little scar on his pointer finger. he stared at how was so summery tan, it still looked blotchy and pale. louis wondered on how that could be as he took his last, dreaded step till he was facing the boy with the hand.

the boy smiled wide and scooted over. "hey, how are you doing? i haven't seen you in forever! how was your weekend?" the boy enthused, hazel eyes bright with excitement, the boy's hand gesturing everywhere.  
tentatively, louis sat down and made himself take as little space as possible. the bus started moving again, with a little huff.  
louis swallowed the carcass he was holding in his mouth and stared with intent.  
"i don't know you." the voice was small and indecent. it sounded sharp. louis didn't mean for it to sound so sharp.  
the boy smiled and laughed. "seriously?" he tilted his head in confusion. the boy's eyebrows, brown and thick but perfectly shaped, shrugged in towards the middle. as he examined louis closely, louis took the opportunity to stare everywhere else on the bus. by this point, the bus was back in full swing, students laughing and dying and giggling once again. he noticed how no one was looking at him anymore.

louis swallowed the bile rising in his throat enough to say, "yeah. sorry."

the boy just shrugged, looking out the bus window for a moment. then he turned back with a full grin on his face. "well, better late than never, right?" then he shoved his hand out, open for invitation. louis stared at it unconsciously. he stared at the little scar again. a little, breathy laugh faded into the air. "this is when we shake and become friends." the boy joked.

louis tried to grin. but he was still shaken up from all this confrontation. "okay," he whispered, more so to himself, but either way, he thinks the boy heard him. so he put on his best face, and after wiping his hand on his pants (it was clammy), he reached it out too.

the boy's shake was firm, a one time shake, very secure.

then, as they pulled away, and louis looked up form his lap, he noticed the boy staring at him. there was a stuck, giddy smile on his face; he had dimples. _really_ had dimples.

" 'm harry." the boy mentioned, still looking at lou's face. "do you have blue eyes? boy, do i love blue eyes."

louis swallowed cone more. the bus came to a slow halt, and people started standing up as a result. he nodded. "yes." he mumbled, as he stood up. and with one more nod, he turned around and tried to walk away (but not too fast, eh didn't want to look like he was trying to escape but he was).

and as he reached the last step of the bus (it's easier getting off than on), he heard one last voice. the same voice. "well, nice to meet you! see y' soon!"

and as louis entered the school and ran to the loo, he wondered why the boy was so certain they'd meet soon. he shouldn't be.


	4. Chapter 4

_**lou;** _

 

 

"oh, that's right," Lou pondered to himself as he creaked into his seat. he dug his fingernails into his palms, feeling the tingly sensation that he craved. "this was my homework."

unknowingly, louis' eyes draw down to his scratched, old desk of his. sharp words and rough drawings are drawn into the wood, against the grain. most of it is incomprehensible.

but not all. he focuses in on the top right corner.

in big, capital letters that look aggressive, there's a phrase: "ANGELA UR A SLUT"

lou's heart stops at that. that seems a bit cruel.

but then, right beneath it, there's a loopy, almost softer writing: "AT LEAST I DON'T HAVE A SMALL DICK, ANDY"

poor angela, louis thinks. to heck with it; poor andy, as well.

nobody deserves that kind of abuse, no matter where. but this is none of louis' business.

and maybe these people are friends. he doesn't know. (for god's sake, _he knows bloody nothing_ )-

"okay class," the teacher starts and god louis feels his blood boiling already, "please pull out your Algebra homework. i'm coming around to check it." mrs anderson's voice rings truly cold and quiet and _this is all your fucking fault louis. you fucking messed that one up._

"louis?" her voice protrudes his ears, waking him out of hell only to go there again.

he glances up. his eyes can barely stay awake. he's keeping them open as a last ditch effort. "i'm sorry, what?'

but he knows what she's going to say. he watches her lips, painted red and slightly chapped, as she slowly forms the words. "the homework, louis. the homework from yesterday? i told everyone to take theirs out. didn't you hear me the first time?"

yeah i did i'm sorry, louis wanted to say. but instead he mumbled, "sorry," and let his eyes drop back down to his desk. he could't focus on reading it. he just wanted to avoid her eyes; he wanted to not see his classmate's shoulders vibrate with their muffled giggles and chuckles. he wanted none of this.

"oh, well do you have it?" she whispered. but it still rang through the silenced room, making everything hollow and everything cold.

it felt oddly comforting to him. but then he heard the laughter, not too subtle, not too quiet.

it started with one voice, cackling. then their friends joined in and girls with their little giggles and-

"no." he whispered. only then did he see, out of the corner of his eyes, her black skirt saunter to the desk behind him.

he knows they had theirs. he heard her 'hmm' with satisfaction, which she does when people do what they're told.

and louis took a deep breath. people have moved on now; their laughter is almost vacant. he made it.

the black skirt made its way to his front. he looked straight up and there she was, her black hair in a slick ballerina bun and her tired face frowning. even her little pointed nose seemed sad. if that's possible. "see me after class." she mumbled, lips flattened to a tight line, so no one else could hear.

and thank god they didn't, louis could tell by the conversations of others. they weren't really laughing. not at him, at least (he hopes).

then she nodded and he nodded, subtly, and she stared for only one second more (her eyes stern and unforgiving), making louis wither).

with a slick turn of her black shiny heels,  she went back to the front of the beige classroom (with math posters plastered everywhere) and looked out to the students (not just louis- _thank god_ ). her hands tightened around eachother, as she wrung them out nervously. "okay," she let out a big breath, her shoulders rising and falling like sea waves, "time to start class. please take out your notebooks and calculators."

this, louis did.

_you have that at least_

 

_\--_

 

the tables are school spirit blue and the chairs are green. the school colors.

as louis walks into the lunch room that day, he notices something different than usual. he feels something unusual.

that weird sense follows him, and creeps up on him, as he saunters to his place in the corner of the cafeteria, setting his paper bag down and sighing through his clenched teeth. something seems off.

and then he feels it more, as he sets himself down, surveying the crowd of kids getting, eating, or looking at their lunches.

 

he feels a set of eyes on him.

it all comes to him at once, making him almost double over and heave.

but he doesn't have the time nor energy to because suddenly-

"i really do like your eyes." is all he hears.

and there he is, the boy with drown hair and hopeful green eyes. and he was watching lou with a strong fascination.

maybe that's why, in the next moment, the boy takes a quick breath and plops himself down, right across from lou at the table. no all louis can see is him, blocking his view, overwhelming louis. and louis feels the breath knocked out of him with a strong force. the force's name is harry.

he just sits there and stares at him. he doesn't quite know what this boy means.

"they're magnificent. really." harry says.

louis bites the inside of his cheek until he feels the pain.

harry suddenly grins. grins so loud and big that louis could almost hear him. he could almost hear him laughing in his guts, all the way down to the stale air in his lungs.

louis cracked open his water bottle. then he pushed his bag over to harry. "want it?" he asks.

it was so quiet, louis suddenly doubted he said it, these were just words that expanded in his mind and filled all them empty crooks up there.

but those doubts vanished because right then, the boy tilted his head to the side. like a dog. "aren't you eating?" he asks next.

louis swallows. how does he subtly say that food just lumps up in his throat and fills up his stomach a way he doesn't like? how does he say that it gives him a fake sense of full? that he's so empty and he can't feel full? food makes him so sick he wants to just d-

"big breakfast." louis shrugged. his shoulders felt like heavy boulders.

harry nods, but then reaches in his own brown messenger bag (one that louis never noticed him carrying on his broad shoulder) and pulls out a thermalized, grey and UV protected, materialized, fancier lunch box. a lunch box that flips off all other lunch boxes in existence, or at least any that are made of paper and destroyed by a little leaked water. but this harry seems too nice to flip someone off. so maybe it just politely tells them to get out. cause this is his/it's turf.

"wow,"  louis breathes, eyes darting to the sickening blue table. then he hears harry say, "yeah man, come right over! the more the merrier."

his mind floods with "o my god more people no not good" and he jumps in surprise when he hears a tray clink beside harry, on the table. " 'ey man! who's this?" louis hears. he's in shock. he has to be. that's what shock is, right? when people are frozen, stuck in time, when they can't move. and their hands feel tingly.

louis is shocked.

"that's... umm.." harry mutters. and then louis realizes that.. that harry doesn't know his name.

then he's shooting to the sky, feet on the ground and louis is standing.

louis is standing above both of them. he feels his mouth curl down. he ~~wants~~ needs to say something. he doesn't want to seem like a freak, he has to speak, but how do you put "i'm sorry i'm not good with new people or any people at all actually and i know this is a problem but i don't want to be fixed bye harry bye forever"

he sticks with: " 'm sorry."

his mouth feels dry and sticky.

harry watches him, takes in a short quick breath, but it's too late. louis is already gripping his book-bag and his water, and he's already whimpering as he rushes away. the way harry's eyes gleamed ' _disappointed_ ' imprinted in louis' mind with big bold read letters dripping in lou's blood. slashed through with a big thick blade called "lou's fuck ups".

_way to fuck up louis_

_way to fuck up real bad_

 

_you could have made friends_

 

 

_\--_

 

_ _

**_harry;_ **

 

"what's that about? he 'lright?" niall muttered, looking over to harry, confused blue eyes.

harry felt himself take a breath, short and quick.

"dunno, needed to pee i guess?" harry joked, laughing hard. louis probably did.

niall laughed real big like a lion and patted harry's back. "you're killin' me, styles," he enthuses.

harry shrugged, giggling like he always does. "eh, well you'll meet 'm soon. he seems real cool."

niall smiled even wider, white braces now in slight view. "we'll see." he hacked out a chuckle one last time, before reaching down and grabbing a handful of chips. "wan't a crisp?" he shoves it in harry's face, but harry is laughing and shaking his head slowly, side to side.

"nah, you know i'm not into that stuff, really," he smiles now. looks at niall too.

"your loss," niall is muttering, but it's almost inaudible due to the chips crunching.

 

\--

 

louis is in the bathroom. louis is breaking down.

louis hasn't felt so pathetic in a long time. and that's saying something.

the mirror does not lie, showing lou's disgusting reflection:

flushed cheeks and sunken cheekbones and swollen blue eyes and baggy jeans that never _fucking_ stay up

and its so annoying and louis _just_ -

 

 

louis just knows that he wants to die.


End file.
